[Omen of the Witchblade] Chapter 125 – The Golden Ticket II

“Machi!” Komachi squealed when Mel picked her up and held her like a baby in front of Rholont.

Mel looked at her, then at Rholont. “I should have known you’d be immune.” She looked over at the Fire Oppa thoughtfully, who was over by the frozen spar between Jacob and Hal.

“He let it happen,” Komachi said, licking her syrupy paw enthusiastically. “Machi do what she want.”

“What’s the matter, Rholont? You’re looking a little panicky.”

The pobul sniffed the angelic guy intently.

“Oh no, she’s got your scent now!” Mel said, enjoying this a little too much.

Turning his face to the ceiling, Rholont asked, “What transgressions have I committed to earn this fate?”

“Yeah,” Mel said. “I get that a lot. So, we’re going to have a nice little chat and you’re going to tell me what I want to know.”

Rholont looked at her. “There are limitations–wait!–I am telling the truth. There are limits to what I can share. If you want to know something outside of my purview as a High Auditory, that is fine. My class and the work I do, however, is off-limits. I do not make that rule, nor can I break it.”

That sounds like something the System would do, Mel agreed. Not that Rholont needed to know she believed him.

“Hmmm. So you say.”

“It is the truth.”

“So you say.”

“Stop saying that!”

Mel transferred Komachi to one arm and stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Are there size limitations to the item I can get?”

The pobul peered up wondrously at Mel. “Like Big Sammy?” Mel was a little surprised that Komachi knew about Gwen’s colossal hammer.

Rholont glanced at Komachi. “Within reason. You cannot ask, for example, to receive a dreadnought class zephyr if you are on a Worldshard that cannot support its size and aetheric weight.”

“So there’s a magical limit as well?”

“Correct. I cannot give you a weapon that is beyond what you or your current location can sustain.”

That rules out a lot of stuff.

“What about classes or knowledge?”

“Also off-limits. The Shard is very specific about that. Every person must earn their way. Nobody can simply buy it.”

Mel tapped her chin thoughtfully. She wrinkled her nose, causing her freckles to shift around. “So I can’t have something that sucks up all the power of my area. What about something that provides power?”

Rholont looked a little ill at that suggestion. “There are…limits, but that is one way to get around the issue.”

By getting something that would produce more energy than it consumed, Mel could greatly expand her options. Weapons and armor were out. She wanted something that would grow with her and be useful to more than just herself.

At the same time, she didn’t necessarily want to take care of something like a manatree. Not because she disliked them, but because it was hard. Hal was tightly bound–her Hal on Aldim, not this one apparently–to a manatree and he still struggled.

They required room and care that she could not provide. Mel was a free spirit. And she had no intention of founding her own nation or little island for it to grow on.

Even if she shouldered the burden with Charlie, there were still limits. Whatever this was going to be, had to complement her way of life.

The call of the wild blue yonder was in her blood. She wouldn’t saddle her friends with the responsibility of taking care of an object that required constant supervision. Even though she knew people like Sabrina would gladly spend all their time taking care of something so majestic.

None of us are a Sacred Sage, that’s for sure.

“What about moving land?” Mel asked. “Living. A core of some sort?”

“A Skyshard?” Rholont asked. “That might satisfy your requirements, but I would suggest against it.”

“Oh-ho, what is this?” Mel asked, pacing around him. “You’re giving me advice now? Whatever happened to ‘I will not give you anything no matter how much ball torture you make me endure!’?”

Rholont watched her circling him with half-lidded eyes. “I did not say that.”

“That’s not how I choose to remember it.”

“Heh, ball torture,” Komachi said sassily.

“I am trying to aid you, because you have made it abundantly clear that you will not leave me alone otherwise. My assistance is your best bet at getting you what you want, which will get me out of here and back to my job. Even as we speak, paperwork is stacking up. If I could bring you up on charges of administrative obstruction, I would!”

“Better enjoy the vacay while you can, fam,” Mel said, stopping in front of him. “All right, you’re going to play ball? How about I tell you what I want, and you use that big Ruby brain of yours to whittle down the selection? Of course, if you try to screw me, maybe I’ll forget what I want.”

That threat seemed to work better than anything she’d ever seen. The thought of having to stay here with Mel and Komachi seemed to be a nightmare scenario of the highest caliber. It hammered the point home when Komachi let rip one of the foulest farts in his direction. It was one of the most heinous things Mel had the misfortune to experience. “I…will do my best.”

“Damn. You kept a straight face and all. Good to know. Ruby rank means I can withstand Komachi’s rancid temporal farts.”

She could still see the remnants of Komachi’s singularity bowels shifting in and out of phase. It was technically classified as a banned weapon on every known Worldshard Mel had ever visited. The noxious gas folded in on itself like a tesseract of stench, lingering in three distinct (normally impossible) temporal spaces at the same time of the past, present, and future.

It was the sort of reek that crossed timelines.

With watering eyes, Mel rattled off the list of things she needed, knowing that she was shooting for the moon. The things she wanted couldn’t possibly be allowed, but if she failed to get even a fraction of what she wanted, it would be a win.

Rholont stood stock still for a while, like he was communicating with home base. When his eyes shifted to her, Mel was still desperately trying to use Komachi’s fur as an air filter.

It helped that huffing Komachi’s wooly fur was comforting. She smelled like fresh, warm summer air, thick with the scent of oncoming rain. It was paradoxical for an animal to emit such a horrible stench yet smell so nice herself, but that was Komachi.

“There is nothing that satisfies your entire list,” Rholont said. “Even for a person of my stature and Rank. You ask for the impossible.”

Mel pulled away from Komachi’s fur and smiled encouragingly at him. “Buuuut?”

If he was a normal human, he would have sighed and his shoulders would have sagged, but he was too far beyond such petty resignation. “There are a few options that satisfy some of your requirements. You will need to choose which parameters you wish to drop in favor of others.”

“Hit me with ‘em!” Mel said excitedly.

Rholont listed each option out with strained patience.

“I like the second one!” Komachi told Mel. “Is gewd idea! Ya wanna pick this alone, Archon? Gonna mondo affect all of us.”

“Tell me the third one again,” Mel said.

“A corvette class zephyr,” Rholont said. “How familiar are you with zephyrs?”

“Very little, but I understand airships, landskyboats–a friggin’ mouthful that one–and planes.”

“They are most similar to airships,” Rholont explained. “A corvette class is the largest this section of the multiverse can possibly sustain with its aetheric engines. You would have enough room for a crew of thirty-five. After that, you would need to get creative. You would be able to dock at any major Worldshard–for a fee, of course–and it would satisfy your desires for a ‘home’ and a ‘base’ as well as something that is ‘upgradeable’. However, upgrading a zephyr is expensive and their upkeep can be difficult unless you have an aetheric engineer on hand.”

Mel nodded. She did like the idea of being a sky pirate. She liked it a lot, but having your home double as your base and your mode of transportation seemed risky.

Too much was lumped in one thing.

“What about Komachi’s preference, the second?”

“Your requisition form would, technically speaking, allow me to fast-track a license and the subsequent physical construction of a shop of your choosing. Of course, you would be locked to certain areas of the Seabrim Crater based on available space. Any premium plots would likely require you to pay a fee to the owner. Aside from that, you would get a sizable eight thousand square foot building with your choice of layout and shop type.”

“Machi wants a coffee shop!” she squealed excitedly.

Mel petted her absently. “And that’d include a license to operate and get revenue from it?”

Gotta say, I like the idea of making money. If Sabrina and the others want to work there, we could effectively get passive income. There’d be enough space to live free of charge as well. Freeloading is nice and all, but if we were all staying at our establishment, then we’d be getting the publicity.

Rholont nodded. “Correct. It would be cheaper to operate and upkeep than a zephyr, but it would be a building here in the Seabrim Crater. This would be your ‘home’ as you put it.”

“Stop saying home like that.”

Rholont very nearly rolled his eyes, but he caught himself at the last moment.

Mel pointed at him. “Almost got you!”

“Have you made your choice?” His voice was thick with exasperation.

A tone Mel was intimately familiar with.

The other options were equally good. All of them satisfied some of what Mel wanted, but none of them came close to covering the most important aspects of a home, plus mobility, and safety.

She stared at Rholont, making him wait.

He stared back miserably.

“What if they were combined?” Mel asked.

“Wuh?” Komachi’s eyes drifted apart.

“A moving shop,” Mel explained. “Surely that’s something you guys have here.”

Rholont looked truly thoughtful for once. He held up a hand and a thick book appeared in his palm. With a blurring finger, he flipped through the gilded pages until he found what he was looking for.

“I see you still can’t speed read as a Ruby,” Mel said with a smug grin.

Rholont looked up with annoyance as he traced his finger down the page. “This page has more information on it than your High Copper mind could absorb. Each symbol is made up of a thousand minuscule runes that each contain the grand sum–”

Mel mimed a yawn.

“You must not be very popular with the ladies,” Komachi said.

Rholont grumbled and continued to read. He snapped the book shut, and it disappeared in a swirl of golden ash. “I do not mix recreation and work.” He looked at Mel. “What you ask for is a very old thing that has not been seen in many Convocations. A creation of Wisdom and Ardor. I do not know if I can acquire it.”

“But it exists.”

“It is called a Rook. In your parlance, you might call it a magical shop. They are capable of moving through the Margins. Many Worldshards have them, though they are more organic creations. Shops that exist one day and are gone the next, often selling strange things that should not exist.”

“That rings a bell,” Mel said, suddenly very interested. It had to be pretty good if two Kindred invented it. “Can we move them to a new location?”

“Only another city or place with a high enough population. It requires people and existing architecture.”

Mel’s eyes lit up. “Do I need a permit?”

Rholont looked a little ill. “No. They technically do not exist in the same space…so they cannot be granted a permit for what they do not have.”

“Can I run a shop out of one?” Mel asked, practically salivating.

“That is its main purpose. You will be its master.”

There was one final question to ask. Mel steeled herself against disappointment. “Can it advance?”

Rholont nearly hung his head. “Yes. Though the process is arduous and expensive.”

“I’ll take it!”